Just another Christmas
by ChildOfTheMoon86
Summary: America likes his routines just as much as he likes excitement and adventure. Like the routine of spending just another quiet Christmas with England. But what do you get someone who's lived for centuries? Maybe it's good to step outside of the usual every once in awhile.


**Just another Christmas**

 **Disclaimer: Surprisingly, I don't own Hetalia. Or Denny's. Or Duplay. Or Bubsy. Or National Treasure.**

* * *

There are certain things that are simply routine in life. And when you've lived for hundreds of years and watched the world change around you, routine is a comfort to be cherished.

At least that's what America has come to believe.

Sure, he likes excitement and adventure as much as the next person. But some days, it's just good to know certain things will aways be the same.

Like Christmas.

Christmas, for the last few decades now, has become one of his favourite routines.

And it all starts from the moment he wakes up. Okay, _technically_ it stared last night after he picked England up from the airport, but that was Christmas Eve. From here on out, it's just all about today.

* * *

Christmas morning, and the sun is shining. Well, more like nearly midday, and it's actually cloudy, but the little details don't matter. Because right now, he's in his favourite spot, just waking up naturally, with no alarm and no schedule, no place to be today. And did he mention the best bit?

America smiles sunnily as he watches the man beside him sigh, slowly waking.

"Morning."

The other blinks, sleepy green eyes opening to meet him.

"Morning." Arthur smiles.

And that's the first of the routine America so loves. Watching England wake up after a long lie in. When the elder is still in the just waking sleepy haze, he's always more relaxed, and the morning smile he gives would put the sun to shame if it were out. Maybe that's why it's hiding, it knows it doesn't stand a chance.

Another sleepy sigh draws his attention as England rolls onto his back, blinking at the semi-sun lit room.

"What time is it?"

"Oh, no. Not today, it's Christmas. No trying to keep to a schedule." He chides, but still smiles.

"Heh, I know. But we can't stay in bed all day."

"Why not? We've got nowhere to be. And besides, I like it here, I've got everything I could possibly want right here." He grins as he pulls the other man closer to him, hugging him to his side.

England puts up no protest, but pretends to ponder this.

"Oh really? _Everything?_ "

"Yup, everything." He snuggles the man more to prove his point.

"What about breakfast?" He can see Arthur smirking back at him.

"Hmm, your right. I do want breakfast." He puts on his best contemplative face, "This presents a problem."

The warm laugh England gives is the best present he'll receive all day, he's sure.

"Alright, enough games you."

England lightly smacks America's head as he sits up, easily pulling himself from the Americans hold.

"Aww, but I like playing with you."

"And I like tea, but contrary to popular belief, I cannot consume it 24/7." He bounces back easily as he gets up, moving about the room to pick up last nights clothes for the day.

He knows the other is watching him, and purposely wiggles his butt in his direction when he bends over to pick the clothes.

He smirks to himself at the silence this elects. Sometimes America is just so predictable.

* * *

Room now somewhat cleaned, he gives the last of the clothes — one of America's shirts — a sniff and frowns, tossing it in the wash basket with the rest.

"I'm going for a shower. You should too, your clothes stink." He complains, heading for the bathroom.

Taking that as the invitation it was, Alfred smiles to himself as he lies for just a bit longer on the bed. Just until he hears the shower start up, before throwing the sheets off and quickly heading in to join the other.

And England isn't surprised in the least when he joins him in the walk-in shower.

This has become such a routine, they're like a well oiled machine. Alfred accepts the opened body wash bottle, easily moving to squeeze the liquid out onto their sponge, before passing the bottle back. He gets to scrubbing himself while he watches Arthur switch to working his shampoo into his hair. And he smiles again as the smells of peppermint and roses fill the shower. Once done with himself, he moves to do his partners back, receiving an appreciative sigh in response.

"Mmh, a little to the left. Aah, there, that's nice." England sighs, leaning into his touch when he rubs over just the right spot.

But when his hand goes lower, he earns himself a light smack and the sponge taken of him.

"Behave." Arthur warns, passing the bottle of his shampoo back to him.

While he works on his hair, they both turn, allowing England to clean his back for him.

"Mhm, you can go lower babe~" He sings when he feels the sponge pass over the small of his back.

"Honestly." Arthur huffs, giving him a light smack on the rear as punishment, turning his back to his lover.

Not one to be discouraged, he turns around as well, and gently slips his arms around England's waist, pulling him back against his chest in as soft embrace.

And for a moment, the two just stand there, letting the warm water run over them as they bask in each other's presence. Before America leans forward, whispering in England's ear, "Love you."

"Do you though?"

"Yup." He smiles softly, knowing the game their playing.

"Hmm," Arthur hums in thought, "I don't believe you."

He grins, "Then let me prove it to you." He whispers, kissing the smaller man's neck, hands slowly sliding lower, "Like you did, last night."

But England pulls his hands away, turning to face him.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, we are actually _trying_ to get clean here." He scolds lightly.

Alfred gives the man his trade mark 'kicked puppy dog look', but by now Arthur has become immune to it. Instead of caving, England just steps out the shower, drying himself and heading back to their room for clean clothes. Sighing, America simply finishes rinsing off. By the time he's stepping out, England comes back into the room to throw a set of clothes at him with the warning, "Get dressed and come downstairs, or I'm making breakfast."

Arthur chuckles as he leaves the room, listening to Alfred scramble to get dressed. He'll admit, he knows he's not the best cook in the world, and sometimes, he likes to use that to his advantage.

By the time America makes it down, England is already sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, reading the morning paper, a fresh pot of coffee waiting for him in the machine.

This is what he loves, just being able to relax around each other, no worries, no obligations for the day.

Today, they're not Nations.

Today, they're just them.

The second part of the routine; breakfast.

Once suitably caffeinated, the pair stroll on down to the nearest Denny's, Alfred grinning like the idiot he is. But he's allow to, it's not often England will willingly hold his hand as they walk, but today is one of the exceptions. He squeezes their gloved hands, gaining a small smile from the other man in return.

* * *

Another routine exemption of the day, Arthur isn't allowed to complain about his choice of food, no matter how unhealthy it is. Comment on it, yes, but complain, no.

So, taking full advantage of this, he goes all out.

"Hi, welcome to Denny's, what can I get for you today?" A waitress asks as soon as they are seated.

"I'll have the salted caramel and banana cream pancake breakfast with bacon and a side of yogurt, and some of your best coffee, please."

He can see Arthur raise an impressive eyebrow at him, but says nothing. Their waitress just smiles as she notes down his order.

"And for you?"

"I'll have the oatmeal and an english muffin with orange juice."

Only thing is, they're deal goes both ways, so he says nothing about the others overly healthy option.

The waitress smiles, quickly writing down his order and taking their menus.

"I'll be right back with your drinks."

"Thank you dear." England gives a polite smile and the girl runs off giggling.

America just rolls his eyes.

"Urgh, you always do that."

"I don't know what you could _possibly_ be referring to." Arthur drawls sarcastically.

"Yes you do."

"I really don't, please, _enlighten_ me." He acts innocent, but Al knows differently.

"Always using your accent on my people, _especially_ my women."

At that precise moment, their waitress returns with their drinks.

"Here you go." She says as she sets them down, eyes flicking to Arthur as she places his drink in front of him.

"That's lovely, dear, thank you." This sends her blushing and giggling back to the kitchen, barely remembering to tell them that the food won't be long.

"You see! That! And using words like _love_ and _dear_ , you practically have her wrapped around your finger." Alfred complains, because he feels the need to defend his people from England's manipulation.

But Arthur just grins lazily at him.

"Well, I can hardly help _your_ people's attractions, or _yours._ "

And just like that, the conversation has been turned around on him.

Arthur's grin grows at his silence.

"Would you prefer I only ever speak for _you_ , love." At the last word, he drops his voice to a sultry whisper that he _knows_ does things for Alfred.

Luckily, they're waitress is too enamoured with Arthur to notice America's deep blush.

Good thing Arthur finds a new point of contention, or else Alfred might not last much longer.

"What, on God's green Earth, is that mountain of sugar you plan on eating?"

Quickly getting himself back under control, he grins.

"Only _the_ best thing on the whole menu!"

"Alfred, you say that about _everything_ in here."

"Because it's true, Denny's is amazing and your just jelly it's not yours." Arthur chuckles at that.

"Oh, no, you can keep it, I think I'm doing just fine with out it."

"Well, good. Cause you can't have it."

He pauses in their teasing banter to chew, knowing how much England hates it when he talks with his mouth full.

"What even is," The man squints across at the Americans plate, "is that pieces of _shortbread_?"

"Yup!" He laughs at the face Arthur makes, a mixture of mildly disgusted and amazed.

"You have been spending _far_ too much time with Alistair." He finally whispers, still making that strange face.

"Jelly?" He sings, drawing the word out as he waves a piece of shortbread filled pancake on the end of his fork at the man, before stuffing it in his mouth.

"Of course not, the man's a menace."

Al laughs again as he asks, "How can you even tell it's shortbread from that far?"

The Englishman huffs, shaking his head, "Trust me, after having it waved in my face for over two hundred odd years, I could identify a crumb of it from a mile away. A skill no man should have." He pauses in thought then asks, "Is this what you two do in my kitchen all the time? Devise the weirdest things to fry and put shortbread in? Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised at this point."

"Of course not!" Alfred cries, pretending to be affronted, "That's not the _only_ thing we do."

"I don't even _want_ to know."

"Hehe, just admit it, your jealous of _my_ people's culinary skills."

"I'll pay you good money to say that to Francis. And of course I'm not. Your weird food concoctions look more like something that's come out of a food lab that you've just deemed edible, but likely to kill you if you try."

"All I'm hearing is how great my food is and how much you envy my free refill policy."

"...Okay, I'll give you the free refills, but that's all!"

"Ha! Got you!" He grins triumphantly, "But not _everything_ I eat is unhealthy. Look, I've got yogurt." He waves the bowl to prove his point.

With a blank expression, England says plainly, "You truly cease to amaze." He drops the facade as he adds, "Why _did_ you get a yogurt?"

"Because it's tasty!"

His green eyed lover chuckles warmly at him.

"I'll never understand you Alfred."

And he grins back, "Give it a hundred years and you just might."

"Only a hundred?"

"Mhm... Maybe you'll just have to try for a _bit_ longer than that."

"Hehe, just a bit." He agrees.

And that's how America knows they're good, because England is willing to talk about the future, a future with both of them, together. And day by day, as it becomes part of his routine, he likes it even more.

* * *

After breakfast, the pair go for a quiet walk around the park. The ground is a bit icy in places, so America uses this as an excuse to hold England closer to him.

In the past, before same sex marriage was legalised in either of their homes, when people were still fighting for gay rights, they had to be much more careful. Public displays of affection were completely out of the question, and, sadly even in some places in his own lands, he still has to be careful. Maybe it's because he's younger, maybe because he hasn't had to live with such oppression for as long, he's a lot more relaxed showing his love out in public. But Arthur...

He pulls the other man closer, pressing him to his side as they walk, happy to not feel him stiffen, or worse, pull away. Back then, if he so much as tried to hold the others hand, Arthur would instantly move away, making sure to keep a carefully measured distance between them.

But even now, when people are supposedly more accepting, he can feel Arthur's worried glancing around. So he let's up on the hug, switching to just holding his hand between them as he directs them back to his house.

* * *

But back to his routine; presents.

As soon as their in, he's stripping his outdoor clothes and diving for the tree. Arthur chuckles, follow in at a more sedate pace.

"Honestly, your still such a big kid."

"Hehe, but you know you love me~"

"Hmm, for some reason I do, though I have no idea why."

The pair grin playfully to each other as England sits on the sofa, while America goes about sorting the presents. Though, it's not hard to tell them apart. Just by looking, he can tell the sleek, perfectly wrapped presents in red and gold stars is Arthur's doing. While his multi-sided boxes have corners jutting out at odd angles and is covered in a much more childish paper patterned with snowmen and reindeer. Other presents from friends and family also litter the bottom of the tree, and he sorts them as well, but right now, it's Arthur's presents he's interested in.

"Open the small one first." Arthur tells him once he's sorted them all into two piles between them.

"Okay and you open this one." He tells him as he places a box that's by far the biggest of the lot in front of the man.

Arthur blinks, giving it a wary look. And with good reason.

Ever since that punching glove present he gave America for his birthday a few years back, they've developed a tradition of giving each other one horrible present, and they always have to open that one first.

He knows Alfred wouldn't resort to anything _too_ dangerous. But this box looks _highly_ suspicious. The size alone is worrisome, but the slap-dash wrapping makes it look even more suspect.

Well, he has to bite the bullet at some point...

"Oh." Not what he was expecting, for sure.

Indeed, the box is a KidKraft Red Vintage Kitchen. He feels like he should be insulted, but he can't help but laugh at the lengths the American will go to for a joke.

"Hehehehe, god, Alfred, how much did you pay for this?"

"A lot more than you'd think. But now you can learn to cook with out burning anything! 'Cause it's doesn't have a power source."

"Yes, I see that." He tips the box to read the contents listed on the side. "Cordless phone, doors that open and close, clicking _nobs_." He pulls his hands to his chest, acting like he's completely smitten, "Oh, _Alfred,_ you treat me so _well._ "

The pair laugh, before Arthur redirects America's attention back to his present.

"Now, I hope my gift can stand up to the _high_ standard of this." He mocks, tapping the box with his foot.

And suddenly Alfred is worried, because England is _notorious_ for giving amazing gifts, both of the bad _and_ good kind. Even though it's flat and light, it could be quite literally anything. It could be a mini tank that fires gum balls at him.

No, wait, that was last year's present, but still! Those really hurt...

So, with all the caution of someone diffusing a bomb, he holds the object out at arms length as he carefully peels of the paper, sighing in relief when nothing goes off or comes firing out of it. So he pulls the paper away completely and turns it over to look at it.

And he screams, tossing it down between them like he's just been burned.

This, only serves to make England laugh out right, highly pleased.

"Why would you give me _this_?! You know I _hate_ it!" He cries, pulling away from the innocent looking video game case.

"Hehe, exactly."

"Where did you even _get_ this? Please tell me you didn't actually _pay_ money to get it?"

"Well, remember that copy you had about four years ago? The one you through out the 87th floor window during the world conference?"

His mouth drops open as he gapes, "You _didn't?_ "

And Arthur grins like a manic at him, "I did. See? It's your old copy." He says far too happily for Alfred's liking.

"Argh!" He groans as he repeatedly smacks his head on the back of the couch, "Great! Now you've turned it into some sort of cursed boomerang! Where's Australia when you need him?"

"Having a barbecue on the beach in the middle of summer annoying New Zealand I imagine. Now," Arthur picks the game up, dangling it between his fingers at him, "Aren't you _glad_ I saved this? Now you can finish it."

" _Finish_ it? I don't even think it _can_ be finished."

"Well, now's a good time to find out."

"Nooooo!" He whines petulantly into the couch, before realising, "Wait, I through that away _four_ years ago, are you telling me you've been holding onto it this _whole_ time?"

England just shrugs, "Of course."

Oh god, what other horrors has the man been keeping all this time that he doesn't know about?

"Oh, come on. It can't be _that_ bad."

"Not that bad? Not _that_ bad?! Bubsy 3D is _the_ single _worst_ video game of _all time!_ It's a broken, unfinished mess. The textures are nonexistent, the controls are stiff and unresponsive and his jump is floatier than a balloon full of helium! The whole thing is a miss matched explosion of vomit colouring that's enough to make your head spin! This ' _game_ ' is the purest crystallised form of artistic expression gone _horribly wrong!_ This," he snatches the case from England's hands, "is humanities greatest failure. I look at this, and I know that we have failed as a species."

He finishes, before suddenly bouncing off the sofa, charging to his front door and ripping it open, launching the game out across his yard and slamming the door shut behind it.

When he turns back around he finds Arthur holding a camera.

"I'm _so_ glad I got all that."

"Huh?"

He doesn't remember seeing that camera before...

"Well, I say it's about time for our _real_ presents, what about you?" He asks as he pulls the camera away from his face, "And this is yours," he adds gently tossing it to America, "Merry Christmas."

"What? Really?!"

Arthur acts nonchalant as he shrugs, "You've been going on for ages about how you wanted a new dedicated camera. That your phones one is great and all, but you wanted something better, so, I asked Japan since he knows more about this stuff then me. Like it?"

"I love it! Thank you!" Still clutching the new camera, he grabs England, pulling him into a strong hug.

"Well, I know your gonna love yours, but it's not here. We need to go out to go see it."

"Oh, dear. You've not gone and made a fool of yourself again have you?"

"Hey, I never make a fool of myself."

"I think I'll be the judge of that."

He sticks his tongue out childishly at the other, be he's still smiling, even as Arthur flicks his tongue in payback.

"Aah!"

"Hehehe. Alright, let's go see this gift of mine."

* * *

America leads him not to a park or an airfield like he has done in the past, but rather, to of all things, a museum. A wave of his ID and they're both let in, but Alfred doesn't stop at any of the exhibits. Instead, he leads England through a staff door and down to the restoration rooms below.

"Your not planning a National Treasure type thing, are you?" He asks worriedly as he's lead through the halls.

"Nope, nothing of the sort."

They reach a room labelled 'Portrait Restorations'. America at least knocks before he walks in, pulling England in behind him.

"Ah, Mr Jones." A middle aged man jumps to his feet as he rushes to greet them.

"Hey Mark. Is it done?" The man smiles, clearly proud.

"Just finished a few nights ago. She's all ready."

Arthur coughs beside him, and Alfred quickly remembers his manners.

"Oh, right. Mark, this is Arthur, he's the one it's for."

Finally having been introduced, England steps forward to shake the man's hand.

"Arthur Kirkland."

"Dr Mark Stone. Shall we?"

Still in the dark, Arthur follows the pair around the corner into another room. There are a few portraits in here, but a particularly large one covered by a dust cloth sits mounted on the wall at the back by itself.

America says nothing as the human goes up and removes the cover.

And Arthur stares...

"I...I thought this had been lost in the fire..."

The portrait, is the only one ever made with him standing by his beloved queens side, Queen Elizabeth the first.

While he stares, the human ducks out, giving the pair some privacy.

"It had been pretty badly damaged. I actually had it sitting in my storage room for years. Then I met Mark, and he told me he could fix it, so I gave it to the museum to work on. They've been repairing it for three years, but they managed to fix it. Hehe, we had to specially fly in this Swiss painter and everything, 'cause he was the only one who could perfectly replicate the art style used in it." He explains, "you, like it?" He asks, a bit worried by the other man's continual silence.

He really hopes they got it right...

But he knows he's done good, when, with out a word, Arthur gently slips his hand into his.

"It's beautiful." He finally whispers, "Thank you. _Thank you._ "

There are tears in England's eyes as America pulls him into a hug, resting his chin on the smaller man's head.

Yeah, he likes his routine, but sometimes, it's good to go off the beaten track once in a while.

"Merry Christmas, Arthur."

He smiles as the love of his life kisses him.

Just another Christmas.

* * *

 **Authors notes:** And there you have it folks, Just another Christmas. Just some pure fluffy romance? Well, it's something anyway. Arthur is such a tease and Alfred is a complete sap.

Fun fact: I originally wrote all this without the shower scene, then a day later my mind went "You know what this fic needs? A shower scene!" And thus, it was added.

I'm not American, but I have been to America a few times, and I am _so_ jealous of your places free refills.

And if anyone is wondering about why they talk about America hanging out with Scotland? Do your research! *Cue stereotypical Scots rage at their history being lumped in with English under the umbrella 'Brithish'* Scots have had a big influence on American history. There's even a statue of one of the Scotsmen who signed the declaration of independence outside the university I went to. And I may be a _teeny_ bit biased towards my country, even though he's still not been officially introduced. *sighs* one day...one day...

As for America's present; I have a head-canon that in the times before photography, Nations would get a portrait done with their leaders, and since portraits and not only expensive but time consuming, they usually only get one made. Plus, going by the view that nations are a secret, it would be a bit suspicious if the same person appears in multiple portraits with out ageing. At least with different rulers they could pass it off as a relative. As for how they would remain hidden today with cameras everywhere? Well, that's a theory for another day.

FYI, if you don't know what Bubsy 3D is, firstly, what rock have you been hiding under, and can I join you? Secondly, be prepared if you look it up, it is everything and more that Al said. Don't look into his eyes!

Merry Christmas everyone!

R & R people.

Until next time, stay awesome!


End file.
